A Boy and His Dog
by Padfoot Reincarnated
Summary: House settles a bet about Wilson, and winds up with dinner plans in the process. HouseWilson slash, fluff.


**Um. Never written anything House before. Actually just started watching the show last week. What can I say? It's been a TV marathon since school let out. This is set...sometime in Season Two. To be honest, the only reason I started watching the show was because I heard it was very slashy. And I was _not_ disappointed. Hope you aren't disappointed with the fic! (Do not own House. Or Wilson, Chase, Cameron, Foreman, et al).**

"Come on, admit it. He completely fits the type."

"Stereotypes aren't true, Chase. Besides, I really don't think he'd do that; he's had three wives."

Foreman snorted and looked up. "Yeah, because he's a nice, kind man. Come on; he's cheated on all three of his wives. I don't think this would really weigh too heavily on his conscience after that, Cameron."

Chase raised his eyebrows. "So you agree with me?"

Foreman shrugged. "I didn't say that. I just think our little Cameron here's being a bit naive."

"Fifty bucks says he is."

Foreman gave a low whistle. "You seem pretty sure…you know something I don't?"

Chase grinned. "Nope. Just bored."

Cameron rolled her eyes. "You two are ridiculous. How do you think you'll find out?"

"Well, there's—"

There was a thump as House limped in and tapped Chase on the shoulder with his cane. "Hey, pretty boy, you wouldn't happen to be _gambling_, would you?"

Foreman's eyes lit up. "Yeah. It's about Dr. Wilson. You want to help us with something?"

"Only if I get in on it."

* * *

"Wilson! I want a puppy." 

Wilson blinked and looked up from the Reader's Digest he was flipping through. "House, if you don't mind, I'm a little busy here," he protested vainly.

House rolled his eyes and slid the door shut behind him. "Yeah, _busy_," he snorted, limping towards his friend's desk. "I'm sure you're _very_ busy. I know when I miss out on an exclusive Stephen King interview, well it just ruins the whole gosh-darn day for me…or are you reading the Harry Potter thing?"

Wilson blushed and shoved the magazine into a drawer. "Nothing, I'm just…relaxing. Or I was. It was my break, until you showed up—what was that about a puppy?"

"I said I want one. I'm planning on going to the shelter tonight to pick one out; I think Steve needs some company."

Wilson stood up and crossed his arms. "Rats and puppies probably aren't a good mix. And besides, a puppy? When would you find time to take care of a _puppy_? You hardly take care of yourself, House."

House shrugged carelessly. "Oh, I think I'll find time. Point is, I want you to come to the shelter with me. Help me pick one out."

"House, I—"

"Come on, Jimmy," House begged. "You're…fluffy. I wouldn't be able to tell Spot from Kujo. I need you to pick a nice one for me."

Wilson sighed heavily. "What time are you going?"

House dropped his cane and pumped his fist. "Ha!" he shouted triumphantly.

Wilson patiently handed him the cane. "I suppose there's a _reason_ for all this?" he asked dryly.

"That was _so_ easy!" House marveled. "You just won me fifty bucks! Seriously…keep it up."

"I'm just going to be honest and admit I have _no_ idea what's going on."

"Yeah, well, you might want to schedule a checkup with Dr. Chase," House said grimly. "He has a little diagnosis that I'm sure he'd be _thrilled_ to share with you."

"Does this have _anything_ to do with the puppy, or can I get back to Stephen King?"

House tilted his head. "So it _wasn't_ the Harry Potter. Huh. Good thing there were no bets on that. Chase thinks you're in love with me."

Wilson's first reaction, naturally, was to laugh. House watched him curiously, until the sound died away. "Are you _serious_?" he asked dumbly.

House shrugged. "Chase's idea, not mine. What can I say? Is he _right_, for once?"

"House, I—"

"Wait, hold still." Wilson tensed instantly. House considered him for a moment, grabbed his shoulder, leaned forward, and pressed their mouths together in an approximation of a kiss.

It took a moment for Wilson to react. For a moment, he stood perfectly still, House's unshaved whiskers bristling against his chin, calloused palms supporting themselves on his chest.

Then he shoved backwards, sending House spiraling into the desk, and Wilson against the wall.

"What the _hell_ was that?" Wilson asked angrily. "These walls are _glass_, you know! Anybody—anybody could have seen that. Oh god. We're going to lose our jobs, we're going to—"

House shook himself violently, widened his eyes impatiently. "Yeah, that's why I closed the blinds when I came in. Pay more attention next time, _Doctor_ Wilson."

Wilson bit his lip. "That's what all of this was about, huh? No puppy?"

"You're allergic to dogs. Get very bad headaches, sneezing, puffy eyes…Chase thought it was weird that I can do or say basically _anything_ to you, and you never get mad at me. You're willing to go to the shelter with me. I think Chase's right."

Wilson sagged visibly. "You're a manipulative bastard."

House shrugged. "You could look at it that way. Or—I've basically just found myself an unlimited supply of food, money—and, it appears, sex. I'd say that's pretty awesome."

Wilson blushed; his eyes darted around the small office as if searching for an escape. "Well, good for Chase. Good for you, you won your bet. 'Humiliate Dr. Wilson', I guess?"

"No, I can do that on my free time," House paused. "So…Chase was right?"

"We _really_ should talk about this," Wilson said, defeated.

Both of them started at a high pitched beeping sound suddenly echoing out of House's pocket. "Yes, we should," he agreed. "But not now. I'm being paged."

"House—"

"What do you say to…tonight? Over dinner…my treat."

Wilson raised an eyebrow. "You never treat."

House waved a hand as he backed out of the office. "Yeah, yeah. Don't get all mushy. See you tonight." He paused to slide the door shut, but poked his head back in for one final thing. "And the puppy thing was my idea, by the way. I know I'm brilliant, you don't have to tell me."

Wilson stared after him for a moment, then shook his head. He whistled through his teeth as he slowly sank back into his chair. "Brilliant," he echoed, touching his chin.

He only had five minutes left before he needed to see a patient.

And he wasn't even halfway through the Harry Potter article.

* * *

"So? What'd you guys page me for, I don't see anyone dying." 

Chase rolled his eyes. "Come on, did you find out or not?"

House hesitated. "I don't know…maybe I shouldn't tell you guys. It's not very ethical to make bets on a man's sexuality. Now tell me, Chase: how would_ you_ feel?"

Foreman grinned triumphantly. "I _knew_ it," he said. "He _is_ straight."

"Ah, ah, ah," House corrected as Chase reached for his wallet. "I never said that."

Cameron surveyed the scene unhappily. "What did you _do_ to that poor man?"

"Oh, relax."

Three pairs of eyes bored directly into House.

"Alright, fine. I might have kissed him a little. _You_. Foreman. Owe me fifty dollars."

Chase didn't appear to know whether to look disgusted or pleased. "Yeah, me too."

Cameron sighed wanly and went to stand beside her boss, as Foreman and Chase argued loudly about money. "Is he still alive, or should I have a crash cart sent over?"

House raised an eyebrow. "Oh, he's definitely alive."

Cameron stared at him blandly.

House sighed. "You—you got any idea where to take a guy for a first date?"

Cameron patted his shoulder. "I think I know the _perfect _place," she promised. "And it won't cost you a penny over fifty bucks."

**I would offer you a cookie for reviewing...but that's what I promise everybody, and I'm waaaay behind. Brownie? In all seriousness, I'd love to hear what you think. I usually have a bit of a block writing TV characters, and I know this isn't the best, but I hope it entertained you a little.**


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